Chapter 3 - THE WATCH THAT STOPPED AT 4:17
"The man who ordered my father's disappearance is still running your organization."
Tristan didn't move.
Nomi watched his face carefully.
She expected denial.
Anger.
Perhaps another threat to kill Vincent Vargo.
Instead, Tristan asked a question.
"Did Vincent give you a name?"
"No."
"Then we don't accuse anyone until we know."
Nomi stared at him.
"You're being careful now?"
"I'm learning."
He picked up the photograph again.
The familiar yellow house seemed to mock him.
Eleven years earlier, he had gone there looking for Daniel Mercer on his father's orders.
He had found the front door open.
A dining table set for two.
And a man's wristwatch lying broken beside the sink.
Tristan had never forgotten that watch.
"Your father wore a silver watch," he said.
Nomi looked startled.
"Yes."
"Black leather strap?"
She nodded.
"The glass was cracked."
Tristan felt his stomach tighten.
"How did it break?"
"I don't know."
"Where is it now?"
Nomi reached instinctively toward her ribs before remembering the injury.
"Somewhere Vincent can't find it."
Tristan exhaled slowly.
"Nomi."
"Don't."
"I haven't asked anything."
"I know what you're going to ask."
She stood, then winced.
Tristan immediately stepped forward.
She raised one hand.
"Please don't."
He stopped.
That small act seemed to surprise her more than anything else.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Nomi said, "Everyone who finds out about that watch starts treating me like a key instead of a person."
Tristan lowered his eyes.
"Then I won't ask where it is."
"Even if it could save your empire?"
"My empire has survived worse."
"Has it?"
He gave a humorless smile.
"Fair question."
The phone buzzed again.
This time, Elias had sent a photograph.
Vincent Vargo stood outside the Calder Hotel beside a black sedan.
His expensive suit was unmistakable.
But the man walking next to him made Tristan's expression change.
Elias had photographed Marcus Bell.
Tristan's chief financial officer.
A man who had worked for the family for twenty-three years.
Marcus had been present at Tristan's father's funeral.
He had helped Tristan negotiate the Moretti truce.
He was also the man responsible for reviewing every payment made through the docks.
Nomi watched Tristan carefully.
"You know him."
"Yes."
"Is he the man?"
"I don't know."
Tristan enlarged the photograph.
Marcus appeared tense.
Vincent was smiling.
The two men looked less like friends than reluctant business partners.
Tristan contacted Elias.
"Don't approach either of them. I want to know where Bell goes."
"That's our Marcus Bell?"
"Yes."
"Boss, he told me he was going home at midnight."
"Apparently he changed his plans."
Tristan ended the call.
Nomi sat down again.
"Vincent said there were people inside your house helping him."
"Did he identify anyone?"
"No."
"Then for now, we assume the possibility is real."
He went to the office door and locked it.
Nomi's breathing quickened.
Tristan noticed immediately.
He stepped back and reopened it.
"Sorry."
She looked at him.
"You noticed."
"I should have noticed a lot of things sooner."
He left the door open.
Then he approached the safe.
Inside, beneath the passports and weapons, was a small wooden box.
He carried it to the desk.
"My father kept this," he said.
Nomi watched as he lifted the lid.
Inside lay a folded funeral program, an old photograph, and a silver watch with a cracked face.
Her breath caught.
"That's impossible."
Tristan placed the watch on the desk.
Its hands had stopped at 4:17.
Nomi reached for it, then pulled back.
"No."
"What?"
"My father's watch disappeared the night he left."
"This was recovered from the house."
"But it can't be his."
"Why not?"
She looked at him with wide, frightened eyes.
"Because I have his watch."
Tristan stared at the object between them.
Two identical watches.
Both apparently connected to the same disappearance.
He carefully turned his father's watch over.
An inscription had been engraved into the steel.
D.M. — Always come home.
Nomi pressed a hand to her mouth.
"My mother had those words engraved."
"Then this is his."
She shook her head.
"Mine has the same inscription."
Tristan's first instinct was to suspect a forgery.
But Daniel Mercer had been meticulous.
He would never duplicate something sentimental without a reason.
"Show me yours," Tristan said.
Nomi studied him.
Then she nodded.
"It's in the guest room."
They walked together.
At the doorway, Tristan remained in the hallway.
Nomi noticed.
"You can come in."
"I don't want you feeling trapped."
She held his gaze for a moment.
"Thank you."
The guest room was neat.
A single yellow lamp illuminated the bedside table.
Books stood in careful rows.
A knitted blanket covered the armchair.
Tristan suddenly recognized how little space Nomi had allowed herself to occupy.
Three months in his house, and almost nothing looked permanent.
She took an old brown coat from the closet.
It belonged to her father.
The elbows were worn.
One button had been replaced with a mismatched black one.
"I kept this after he disappeared," she said.
Her fingers found a narrow opening inside the lining.
She withdrew a small cloth pouch.
Inside was another silver watch.
Tristan examined it.
The cracked glass matched.
The inscription matched.
But its hands had stopped at 9:12.
He placed the watches side by side.
"Your father was sending somebody a message."
"Through two watches?"
"Possibly."
Nomi touched the one from Tristan's safe.
"Raymond told me never to wind mine."
"Did he explain why?"
"He said the truth was in what stopped."
Tristan studied the tiny date windows.
His watch showed April 16.
Hers showed April 17.
The night Daniel Mercer vanished.
"Two dates," Tristan murmured.
"And two times."
Tristan considered the old port records.
April 16 and April 17 had been the dates of an emergency transfer following a warehouse fire.
At least that was what the official records said.
But if Daniel's watches were meant to mark two events, perhaps the fire wasn't the beginning.
Perhaps it was the cover.
"Nomi, what do you remember about that night?"
She sat on the bed.
"I was seventeen. Dad said we'd be leaving town in the morning."
"Did he seem frightened?"
"Yes."
"Did he explain why?"
"He kept saying he'd made a mistake trusting the wrong man."
Tristan felt something tighten in his throat.
"Anything else?"
Nomi stared at the brown coat.
"He made me promise to keep it."
"The coat?"
She nodded.
"He said I'd understand when I was older."
Tristan examined the lining.
The small opening had been sewn by hand.
He turned the coat inside out.
Near the left cuff was a tiny square of embroidery.
Four numbers.
0417\.
The same numbers shown on his father's watch.
But beneath them were two initials.
R.E.
Raymond Ellis.
Tristan looked up.
"Raymond didn't just help your father disappear."
Nomi's face changed.
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying Raymond may have been there when it happened."
She stood abruptly.
"Raymond told me he arrived afterward."
"Then he lied."
Nomi backed away.
For years, Raymond had been the one man she believed had told her the truth.
He had paid for her education when her father's accounts were frozen.
He had visited every Christmas.
He had been her closest thing to family.
"Why would he lie to me?"
"I don't know."
Tristan looked again at the embroidered initials.
Then he noticed something beneath the stitching.
A thin rectangle was hidden between two layers of fabric.
He carefully separated the loose seam.
A folded piece of paper slipped out.
It was an old shipping receipt.
One side bore a date.
April 17.
The other listed a cargo transfer authorized by Daniel Mercer.
Destination: Pier 9.
Receiving officer: Raymond Ellis.
And under the cargo description were three words.
ONE LIVING WITNESS.
Nomi stared at the paper.
"Who was the witness?"
Tristan recognized the signature beneath Raymond's name.
He had seen it on hundreds of security reports.
His hand went cold.
"Marcus Bell," he whispered.
Nomi shook her head.
"But Marcus was just your father's accountant."
Tristan looked at her.
"That's what I thought."
Then he turned the receipt over.
May you like
Written in Daniel Mercer's handwriting was a single warning.
If Marcus tells you I am dead, ask him why he was wearing my watch.
